Well, that was a pleasant day...

...which is particularly surprising given that I went to the dentist today. (Well, but my teeth were doing beautifully--I have fabulous teeth, don't you know? I am quite sure I mention it constantly every time we meet!)

Mark took Daisy to ballet while I was at the dentist, and then I picked her up and met Robyn, Rene, Eli, Tita Alex, and Vincent at China Beach. What a great idea, guys! It was a beautiful day--sunny but not too hot--and we had picnic lunches and frolicked on the beach. I am not the beachiest person, but for some reason it was superb today. We found some huge starfish and crabs and explored various rocks with sea life clinging to them. We spied a little boy and his mother digging in the sand near the water and making their own little tidepool, so we did the same a few yards away. Then a little girl saw what we were doing and she and HER mother dug a tidepool. Then the little boy came running over and tested our pool, and we tested his, and he very excitedly proposed that we should create a creek system connecting the pools. Now, this took a lot of effort--do not laugh. Suddenly there I was digging these canals to connect the pools, and the other mother was doing it, and then the mother of the little girl did it, and we had some lovely creeks flowing that connected all the pools. Eli's daddy Rene added to the system by creating an alternate route with an island stuck in the middle of it, and all the little kids were running up and down and splashing in the pools and having the best time.

AND, I was so proud of Daisy because I got to watch her confront and defeat a fear. For most of the time we were at the beach, she was afraid to go near the waves. I had to talk her into letting me carry her down by the rocks to see the starfish, and the whole time she was clinging to me and talking to herself, saying, "Be brave, Daisy! Be brave!" Okay, that was pretty cute. But she insisted on running back any time it looked like the waves were encroaching. At the end of the day, though, she suddenly got extremely brave. Don't ask me why. Holding either my hand or Mark's, she wanted to go running into the waves, and we made a game out of it where we pretended to be afraid and went running back after a little while. She was laughing and jumping in the waves at that point, and I think she could have gone on for hours.

I often have a critical feeling about living in San Francisco, but today was one of those happy days when I enjoyed living in this city and in my neighborhood particularly, where we are so close to a place like China Beach. I enjoyed meeting strangers and their kids and digging canals with them; there was almost a jolly small-town feeling to the whole thing, and when we walked away up the big hill I was happy to see that some other kids and families had taken over the pools and canals and were digging in them.

Then we had Eritrean food at a cafe we really like on Clement, Cafe Mereb (go there, San Franciscans), and then Mark went to play a show, and I am here. Don't feel sorry for me-- I really feel too tired to go jump up and down in a bar.

Dead

All the kids in Daisy's preschool class have now been introduced to the concept of death, as their guinea pig Cupcake died a few months ago (that is, if they weren't already familiar with the concept--some of them might have been). On the day poor Cupcake died, I went to pick up Daisy and a herd of kids came running up to me to tell me about the guinea pig's demise and how he was now under a rock in the front yard. Unfortunately, the tears started coming to my eyes (subtly, I hope) and thus I appeared to be more upset than many of the kids... nice.

There is an adorable little boy in Daisy's class who is often in the book nook in the mornings, too. He kind of reminds me of her: very serious, lots of questions, and a book lover. Apparently, he has been asking a million questions about death since the guinea pig died. The teachers did a St. Patrick's Day presentation, and this little boy raised his hand to ask right off the bat, "Is St. Patrick dead?" This morning I read him and Daisy an Indian story (the tale of Babaji) in which tigers grab hold of each other's tails, race in a circle, go faster and faster, and finally melt into butter, which the family eats on a big pile of pancakes.

Cute Boy: Does that mean they were dead?
Othe clasmate: Yes, they are dead.
Daisy: No! No, they are not dead!
Helpful Classmate: They just melted.
Cute Boy: But they can't talk anymore, or move. I think they died.

I tell you, it is really something to look into these children's sweet faces and serious eyes and try to answer their questions about death.

After that, something kind of upsetting happened. Daisy saw her friend Gigi arrive, and she jumped up in great excitement and started walking quickly--not really running, but walking quickly--across the room to greet her. I saw from where I was sitting an older woman intervene and say something to her. I couldn't hear what the woman said, and I'm not sure who she was--a parent or grandparent, I assume--but Daisy turned right around and walked back over to where I was without greeting her friend. I didn't think much of it, but when it came time to say goodbye, Daisy burst into tears. This NEVER happens. She was really sobbing and saying, "I don't want to be at school today," tons of tears pouring down. At first I was completely stunned, but then it occurred to me that this was related to whatever happened with that woman. Daisy had been in a great mood, rushing over to see her friend, and then something changed. I asked her to tell me what the woman said to her but she repeated, "I don't want to tell you, I don't want to tell you!"

Jolanta, our wonderful teacher, came over and offered to read Daisy a book, which helped. Daisy said, "That's a great idea!" and started wiping her tears away, making an effort to stop crying. Jolanta told her to go get a book, and I heard Daisy asking her friend Gigi to join them. I was able to leave.

But I can't stop thinking... uh-oh. She is going to be sensitive, like I was. I remember that a cross word from an adult could cause me major distress when I was a little kid. I was very sensitive to tone of voice, too, so even if the words weren't overtly mean, if a a harsh tone was used, I was upset. Seems like maybe my daughter is going to be the same way.

Wow

At lunch today, Daisy asked me if I knew what "metamorphosis" was, pronouncing it precisely. I nearly flipped! She then defined it, very proudly, as "changing." That school really is teaching her something!

This was an important day for Daisy. She had been telling us all weekend about three older girls at school who have been mean to her, telling her to go away, etc. We already knew about these girls because Daisy had mentioned them earlier in the year and they are informally known as "the clique," but she hadn't brought them up in awhile so I had been hoping the problem had gone away. I saw one of the girls with my own eyes shove Daisy out of a line of a kids sitting to watch an acrobat at a child's birthday party, and when Daisy tried to find another spot in the line, she went over and shoved her out of that spot, too. I hate to seem to confirm sexist stereotypes, but several little boys in the line were saying "Hi, Daisy" in a friendly way and it was like this girl was not going to allow Daisy to sit next to any of them. She wanted her to have to sit behind, and she would have had to, if I had not intervened.

We tried to discuss the problem with Daisy over the weekend, explaining in response to "Why are they mean?" that some older girls might not want to play with a younger girl, but they were making a mistake because Daisy is well worth playing with. We also tried to encourage her to focus on playing with other kids.

Well, this morning when Daisy saw one of the girls, she marched right up to her and said, apropos of nothing, "Janie [not her real name], you are making a mistake! I am a big girl!" The girl looked sheepish and somewhat confused. Daisy went on to try to strike up a real conversation with her while they washed their hands in the bathroom; being Daisy, she chose a rather odd topic of conversation (the fact that the sun had been shining in her eyes on the way to school and she had had to cover them with her hand). I could see the girl being unresponsive but not overtly mean, maybe because I was present, and she made one slightly disparaging remark about Daisy's inability to turn on the water faucet by herself.

Daisy had asked me to tell her teacher what was going on, but I thought it would be better if she could tell her herself. So we had gotten to school early today for this purpose and Daisy told the teacher. Our teacher, who is absolutely wonderful, said she was going to have the four girls sit down today at the Peace Rose Table (a Montessori concept--I don't think Daisy's ever sat at it before today). I was nervous all morning with knots in my stomach, even though I knew it should probably go okay for Daisy since this wonderful teacher would be there. It just made me so uneasy, though, to imagine her confronting all three of these older girls, three against one, and my one being the youngest.

But apparently it went well! The teacher told me later that Daisy informed them, "I am almost as big as you are and I will be as big as you soon." The teacher talked with the girls and told them their behavior made her sad, which believe me would make you want to hurl yourself off a bridge-- there is something about our teacher that makes losing her good opinion particularly devastating. She is smart and beautiful and gently ironic with a twinkle in her eye, and has a delicate, lovely way about her. I have seen how all the kids feel about her so I know it would make an impact for her to say this.

The girls said they were sorry to Daisy. Of course, I don't really know if they were just pretending to be sorry in front of the teacher or if they really were, but the apologies made Daisy happy and she has mentioned this several times to me today. I am so proud of her for standing up for herself. She really is a big girl. At the same time, I can't help getting sad about all that is coming, probably-- the ways of the big, mean world. I want to try to teach Daisy to treat others kindly, so I've also been talking with her about how she felt when these girls excluded her and how she would not want to make anyone else feel that way-- so if other kids want to play with her, she should be open to that. I hope these are good teachings. I have noticed that Daisy has empathy-- it was very much in evidence at her very elderly great-grandma's house yesterday, where she was patient and well-behaved, hugged her great-grandma and sat on her lap for a long time, and even ate food she ordinarily wouldn't eat. It was like she understood she needed to be flexible and rise to the occasion and that someone else's needs mattered more (which is not that easy a concept for a three-year-old!). So I think the foundations for a truly empathetic personality are there. They just kind of disappear sometimes when she is particularly tired and cranky :)